Verity
by DSieya
Summary: There are many universes in which an actress and a few physicists are thrown into each other’s lives. This is one of them. sci-fi AU, sheldon/penny, WIP, dedicated to montycrowley


**Originally written on 1/15/2020 and posted at Paradox, the Sheldon/Penny LiveJournal Community.**

**Dedicated to montycrowley, who wanted me to write a TBBT sci-fi AU. Gahkjshdfl I hate plotting.**

* * *

A young woman is thrown into a holding cell.

The door hisses shut behind her.

Ignoring the pain in her ribs, she stumbles onto her feet and crashes against the cold metal of the door. She smacks the edge of her fist several times against it. Her head swims.

Once she realizes that her actions are, in fact, useless, in frustration she slams her knee against that door. This accomplishes nothing except for to possibly dislocate her kneecap, and, limping slightly, she turns around to face the other people in the cell.

Voice wry, she asks, "Anyone else not know why they're here?"

* * *

"Hey, looks like they're new!" A man points out two people, another man and a woman, who look similar enough to be related. They glare at the beginnings of his enthusiastic greeting, causing him to hesitate, lower his arm, and sort of drop behind his companion. "They don't look too happy," he mutters.

The other man doesn't comment because he doesn't want to encourage further investigation of the topic.

The shorter man interprets his friend's silence correctly. Absentmindedly he presses his palm to a pad. It lights up green, and the door beside it slides open with a hiss.

"We've been here three months, Sheldon. I wish that my closest relationship other than you wasn't with the man we pick up our laundry from every week."

"From whom we pick up our laundry," the man named Sheldon smoothly corrects. His friend rolls his eyes and grumbles something insulting that Sheldon chooses to ignore. "And I don't see why not," he adds. "Mr. Marley has an impeccable folding technique."

"I forgot: the most important facet of friendship is whether or not they fold linen correctly."

"If that is an important facet of friendship, Leonard, I wouldn't be standing anywhere near you."

Sheldon starts to prepare himself for sarcasm when a commotion on the other end of the corridor makes the two of them glance up idly. Two men are working to detain another person at the end who is putting up quite a fight.

This is not infrequent. Prisoners provide labor for the complex as an option to shorten their terms, although sometimes they are still unruly. The last time a large, muscular woman with numerous tattoos broke free of her guards and almost made it to the second-tier blast doors when they managed to detain her.

"Huh," says Leonard next to him, his eyes glued to the end of the hall. "Well. Looks like we have new inmates." He shoots a wary glance at Sheldon.

Despite the security measures around the complex, upon learning about the usage of convicted criminals Sheldon still booby-trapped the door to their admittedly spare room. In fact, that two-inch-thick slab of metal is probably now one of the more dangerous parts of the facility.

When the commotion ends (with whoever was initiating the struggle being shoved past a set of doors) Leonard nudges Sheldon and glances up at him with a small sigh.

"So. Ready to get back to work?"

Sheldon is already pressing his palm to a sensor pad, then leaning to let it scan his retina. "Those bridges won't stabilize themselves."

* * *

For the second time in two days, the young woman faceplants against the floor.

Curling her lip, she shoves herself back to her feet, ready to whirl her fists until they connect with _something_, but turns and the door is already sliding shut, leaving her alone in the room.

God. She sure does move around a lot, doesn't she? She wonders if there's any method to this, or if they just want to confuse her. Because they sure as hell are succeeding at _that_.

"Ms. London?"

She reels around at the sound of the voice. Why was—?

Oh.

Wait.

What the _hell_?

"Regina?"

The telescreen, tiny compared with what she is used to (probably why she didn't even see it in the first place), is filled with the face of her agent.

"Oh thank _goodness_!" Regina's voice is filled with that sincerity that colors everything she says. "Now, I have to be quick, we're only allotted five minutes. But when I got the call from your lawyer who heard from your mother that—"

"That _what_?" she growls. "How the _hell_ do you know what's happening and I don't? Because as far as I know I'm being held for ransom for, for, I don't know, a shipment of jack terrier puppies or something!"

"Just stay calm—"

"Stay—?!"

"—I spoke with your lawyer and he's speaking with the colonial embassy to try to get you out of there, but we're trying to keep this _quiet_ obviously, your career—"

Regina quickly backtracks at the look sent her direction.

"My apologies, Ms. London, you're _absolutely_ right, we can have that discussion later, so. Um. I suppose I am right in assuming that you don't know—"

"Any-fucking-thing!"

"Yes. Well. Apparently—I don't know anything about this—but there is a theft charge against you on Satchmo?"

She is dumbfounded. The last time she stole something it was a pair of high heels out of her sister's closet and she was nine.

"That's ridiculous. I'd like to speak with my lawyer, Regina, if you don't mind."

"Like I said, your lawyer is—"

"Well I'd like to speak with him _now_! Not to be rude but what the hell do you have to do with my situation here?"

Regina visibly bristles.

"I am _sorting this out_ this, Ms. London. This couldn't have come at a worse date. _Weeks_ before the premiere and you get tossed in jail on an uncontrolled colony! I've already kept this out of the press, I've already made a statement about your sustained absence from here on out, I've spoken with your family, with the producers and the other cast, and your lawyer is very busy—"

"Listen. Yeah. I'm sorry. But this is fucking—I don't even know—I was just shopping! Honestly my _first_ trip off-world and what the fuck is happening?"

She tries very hard not to let angry and frustrated tears start leaking. She succeeds.

"I am trying to sort this out for you." Regina's voice is a lot more caring now, and the young woman tucks her hands against her sides. "Keep your head down, do as you're told, and for _god's_ sake, try not to draw attention to yourself. I understand that you're at a locked-down, highly secure facility, but we don't need this leaking out." There is a pause. "Although I can already tell you won't have as much of a problem with that as anticipated," she coughs.

"Thanks," the young woman grumbles. She is wearing yellow scrubs made of linen that _totally_ clash with her hair, which is lank and uncurled, and the only hint of makeup is the presence of raccoon-smears underneath her eyes. She looks nothing like herself; she looks like shit.

"We'll sort this out. I don't know how long this will take, but—"

The connection is cut off.

* * *

For the third time in two days, the young woman faceplants against the floor.

On reflex she turns her head to see the door sliding shut, but already knows it's useless to fight.

The floor is nicer, though. An itchy carpet—but carpet nevertheless—tickles underneath her fingers. There is a bed with one blanket and pillow, a small receiver in the corner, and what looks like the door to a bathroom unit.

After assessing, Penny pushes her tired muscles into standing, collapses onto the bed, and sleeps.


End file.
